After what had been quite a climb, the two arrived at the top of the enormous stair mountain. Before them was a magnificent castle-like structure encased in a transparent bubble.

Martha noticed, however, that there appeared to be no point of entry. The clear, glass walls seemed to her quite solid. Before she could bring this up, however, the Doctor was already working away, feeling along the sides and occasionally whipping out the Sonic Screwdriver, muttering all the while.

“If I could just remember how to get in…” he murmured, his brow furrowed. “Let’s see…what was it…three to the left and…six down? Or was it seven?”

Martha remained silent, knowing it best to keep her mouth shut when the Doctor was in this kind of state.

“Wait a second…here it is…aha!” the Doctor cried triumphantly. His thumb on what appeared to be the correct location, he scanned it with his Screwdriver.

“Welcome to the Time Lord Citadel,” said a female-sounding computer’s voice. “Please state your Identity.”

“The Doctor,” he replied confidently.

Nothing appeared to have changed. “Second request,” said the computer, “Please state your Identity.”

For a second Martha thought that the bubble was going to collapse as it gave a great shudder similar to that of an earthquake, but instead, a door-sized opening appeared to melt out of a small, rectangular section of the glass. The team let out a cry of triumph.

The Doctor had to duck in order to pass through the threshold. “Those other Time Lords,” he said, shaking his head, “they’re all so damn short…come on, Martha!”

Still grinning, Martha passed through the doorway. Almost immediately thereafter, several alarms began to shriek around them.

I do in fact have a Life Outside of the Internet. For instance, this past week I’ve been volunteering at my favorite theatre company (the one where Cabaret went on) to help out with the kids aged 8-11. It was really fun and pictures of the experience are up on my MySpace. Anyway, all that is explanatory of my absence.

That webcast thing may not be as frequent as I’d like. Perhaps only when I’m feeling charismatic.

And CAFEPRESS ARE STUPID, EVIL THINGS. They took down all of the products in my shop, due to the “Reference to Doctor Who”.

😐

There are THOUSANDS of Doctor Who items up on wordpress, for God’s sake. It’s where I got my University of Gallifrey shirt.

Martha took in a sharp breath of absolute horror at what surrounded her. “What…what happened?” she breathed, afraid of the answer.

“War,” the Doctor answered his eyes misty. “Simple as that. Come on. I…I want to see if anyone else is still–”

He swallowed the last word, turning away.

They roamed the Heart, looking for any sign of life whatsoever, but the chaos surrounding them seemed determined to tell them otherwise. Glass from broken shop windows littered what was left of the streets, which were pitted with massive craters, some of which were several meters wide. Martha shuddered to think what could be left inside, forgotten. Severed limbs? Bodies, even? She pushed these thoughts out of her mind with a grimace. Even the orange-gold glow that the rest of the planet had bathed in was gone, replaced by an eerie sort of gray haze.

But indeed there was life, for even amidst the catastrophe around them, there were still a pitiful few people up and walking. Some of them looked like Martha felt—lost, afraid, horrified. Others were simply in shock, moving in a zombielike trance. Yet still others were sobbing, wailing to the heavens above them in grief.

“My boy!” screamed another, wailing at the top of her lungs. “Exterminated, right in front of me! How could they?”

“We should go,” murmured the Doctor. Martha agreed, close to tears herself.

After a few moments of silence, the Doctor spoke. “It’s only about a mile to the citadel, now,” he said, “Let’s go.”

The following mile was much the same, only, Martha noticed, it was looking less and less chaotic as they went on.

“The Daleks,” the Doctor explained, “are moving very progressively. No, they don’t just blow it all up at once. A little bit…a little every day.”

A mile later, they were faced by the most massive stairwell Martha had ever seen. Well over a thousand steps, it led up to an even more massive, magnificent structure that was enclosed in what appeared to be an enormous glass dome.

“Now that,” said the Doctor with a touch of pride, “is the Citadel. And now we climb. Oh, there’s going to be quite a bit of climbing, I’m afraid. Well, no time to waste now. Allons-y!”

As an aside, he muttered to himself, “I just hope someone’s still up there…”

You really don’t have to buy anything, it’s true. But all profits (of which there are few, CafePress being FILTHY PROFIT WHORES) will go towards improving this site. For example, getting this website a .com domain instead of a .wordpress.com domain!

But there are some cool things there, like shirts and mugs and stuff. Check it out.

The other is a YouTube video channel.

But, at the time I am writing this, THE FIRST VLOG STILL HADN’T UPLOADED.[edit: channel now available here. It’s not fancy but eh. Please report any problems you have with the video!]

Damn wireless internet.

On a personal note, check out what Miss Zoe got in the mail!

This came inthis.
[I would have just put it into the blog post, but the pics were way too big. sorry!]
[Edit: Link fixed]

The Doctor had never appeared more afraid in all the time she’d known him, Martha thought, as they dashed madly through the jungle.

The cannons were almost unbearably loud and seemed only to get louder as they went on. Cries of fallen soldiers crashed against the trees, and an occasional stray bullet would zoom over their heads, barely missing them.

It felt as though they would never be able to stop when suddenly, the Doctor let out a cry of anguish, collapsing to the forest floor. Martha wheeled around and ran back to him. “Doctor!” she cried, “What’s wrong? What’s the matter?”

“Residual—GAAH!—spectral energy. Don’t worry, I should be fi—AGH!”

Then, his voice dropping to a feeble whisper, “Help…me…”

“How, Doctor?” Martha cried, “How can I help you?”

“I need you to—guh!—hand me that yellow…that yellow…”

He could no longer continue. “Hurry!” he managed to rasp, before fading out of consciousness.

Martha might not have been a medical expert in Time Lord biology, but she knew just by looking at her friend that she had to act fast. She frantically searched around her for anything yellow, remaining wary of the approaching fire. Finally, she came up with a flower that looked like a bright-yellow cross between a daffodil and a tiger lily. She rushed over to the Doctor.

“Hey, now—it’s alright—wake up—is this what you need?”

The Doctor feebly opened his eyes. Squinting at the flower for a moment, he seized it from Martha’s hand and began to gnaw on it viciously, as would a tiger. Through a mouthful of leaf, stem, and petal, he said, “Daligrilly. Life sustaining–”

Realizing he appeared rude, he swallowed. “Sorry…it’s a life-sustaining plant for the Time Lords. Only thing that can completely restore my energy short of regeneration. Now, where were we? Oh, yes. Run!”

Maybe it was Martha’s imagination, but the gunfire surrounding them seemed less and less rapid with every passing minute. Either they were getting farther away from it or…she tried not to think too hard about the alternative. Surely the fewer people alive, the fewer people who could fire.

So lost in her thoughts was she that she failed to pay attention to her surroundings, which were suddenly changing.

“Martha,” the Doctor said hesitantly. When that failed to bring her back, he reached out and touched her shoulder. “Martha,” he said again. “Mmm?” she replied dazedly. She gasped in shock.

Around her was a city in utter chaos.

Structures that were once beautiful and intricate were crumbling before their eyes. A deathly silence lingered in the air, sending a chill down Martha’s spine.

“I’m not surprised,” murmured the Doctor resignedly. “I never should have told you.”

“You tried to defend your planet,” said Martha slowly, “when you thought it was under fire. Why wouldn’t you? I’m sure I would have done the same…”

The Doctor remained quiet. Then, after a painful few seconds, he gathered his courage and looked her in the eyes. “Then, would you have run?”

He stood up. “A cowardly little novice, that’s all I was then,” he said, his voice heavy. “And Martha…there is absolutely nothing I regret more, not in my 903 years. You must understand that.”

“But Doctor,” she consoled him, “you were so young back then! Young, foolish—surely your years have taught you that? If living with that burden for nearly 600 years isn’t enough of a penance, I don’t know what is! Please, Doctor, just try to let it go.”

He was silent. “I just hope,” he said, almost inaudibly, “that the other Time Lords haven’t caught on to the ghosts yet…we’re very perceptive, you know. A message here could travel to the other end of the planet in less than thirty seconds if one of us used something called Contact. I’ve found it useful in the past…” He paused, remembering all the times he had used it to communicate with other Time Lords, and, on one occasion, with himself. Shaking his head, he said, “I just need to hope no one saw any of that. No Time Lords, anyway.”

He mustered a smile, despite his conflicts. “Well!” he said, waving vaguely at the Citadel, “We need to make it over there sometime, haven’t we? Allons-y!” Without warning, he leapt up and dashed off, Martha not far behind.

The emotional atmosphere seemed to hang in a heavy cloud around the Doctor as the pair stomped their way through the jungle. “We still need to be careful, Martha,” said the Doctor, hacking away at some vines with his Screwdriver. “It’s not over yet. In fact, we need to hurry…” he swallowed, disturbed.

Before Martha could ask him why, the familiar sound of the cannons began to resonate, louder than they had ever been. Instinctively, Martha froze. The Doctor, on the other hand, was running at full speed ahead.

“Martha, the wildlife is very nice and everything,” he shouted, stopping briefly, “but now is neither the time nor the place to admire it! They’re too close to us now! There’s no point in bypassing their radar! We need to run!”

Cabaret went very well! I got some very positive responses and my monologue killed. If you want to see pictures/videos from the show, add me on MySpace at http://myspace.com/hippiezoe . Make sure you tell me you read the Blue Box, though!

I graduate this week. Wa-hey. Should be great. I guess. Except that one of my best friends was named Valedictiorian and I have to admit, I’m a wee bit jealous.

Puhhhh.

Ah well.

Anyone know how long it takes a David Tennant fan letter to get a response? Just wondering.

Disclaimer: This chapter is ripe with inaccuracies. I see that as part of the fun of writing a fiction, but if this is likely to upset you, cease reading now and come back next week. Thank you.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Martha, a little uncertainly, “I could never hate you.”

The Doctor smiled grimly. “Don’t be so sure. Now, years ago…well, that’s what it seems like. You know me; I can’t really keep track, now, can I? Anyway, I used to have a job up at the Citadel.” He gestured towards the marvelous structure that was the focus of their journey. Now, I’m still bound–morally, if nothing else–by Gallifreyan law not to go into too much detail. I believe you’ll find out for yourself, anyway, if this journey goes as I think it will. Oh, I was so young…” he grinned, “a mere 350 years! Can you imagine? Newly regenerated and full of vigor. In fact, a newly-named Time Lord!”

His face turned dark. “But one day, I noticed something coming up on the radar. Now, I was poking around where I didn’t belong, as…” he paused, looking a tad sheepish, “as I sometimes tend to do, I’m afraid. But what I saw was what appeared to be an attack from Skaro upon Gallifrey.”

He looked away from his friend, wondering if he should continue or not. Deciding he’d come this far and might was well finish the job, he spoke in carefully measured tones so as not to seem angry or upset. “As it turns out, it wasn’t an attack. It was a test of Skaro’s equipment, as needs to be done from time to time, even here and on Earth. But I tipped off Archimedes, and–”

Martha interrupted. “Archimedes?” she said in disbelief. The Doctor nodded. “Your inventor back on Earth? Took his name from a passing Time Lord, you know. Would you believe it? His real name was Frank. But nevermind that,” he said, turning solemn once more. “I tipped off Archimedes–our Archimedes, obviously–and he called for open fire. I hadn’t meant for that to happen, Martha. Really I didn’t! An investigation, maybe, that’s all I’d really had in mind.”

They sat in one of the loudest silences Martha could ever remember. “So…” she said, her voice thick with a mixture of anticipation and worry.

To her surprise, the Doctor’s eyes were bloodshot. His voice cracked when he answered. “I started the Time War.”

*I wandered downtown in a 1940s ball gown, explaining to every staring bystander that I was not crazy, but on my way to rehearsal. Then an old lady yelled at me in Spanish. Now, I don’t speak much Spanish, but from what I gathered, she thought I was a spirit and was attempting to banish me back to my own time. Hence the spit on my shoe.

*I had a killer rehearsal. Everything went almost exactly according to plan, save for a very awkward scene in which Sally Bowles forgot her lines completely. But we restarted and all was well. It’s an honor, you know, playing the same character on stage in this production of Cabaret as Lotte Lenya once did. I’ll make that old diva proud.

*Interesting little moment while watching Planet of the Ood:

[Ood singing]
Me: Ow, my head.
The Doctor: Ow, my head.

Later:
Me: [rubs head]
The Doctor: [rubs head]

And even later:
Me: Where’s my Sonic Screwdriver, I wonder.
The Doctor: [pulls out Sonic Screwdriver]

Ahhh, life is weird.

I’ve temporarily lost laptop privileges. Okay, so maybe I might have broken a hinge on the screen…
In any event, I’m banished to the backroom computer for a while. Siigh. I guess it’s a step up from no cell phone, no use of any computer, and no Doctor Who until after graduation on the 22nd, however. So I’m fine with that.

Anyhow. I advise you not to read the next chapter until after you’ve read at least two back. It will be to your benefit.

That was all the Doctor could see around him. He couldn’t hear anything, either, except a kind of white noise, a noise which, he noted, was slowly filling the air and becoming almost unbearably loud. Shut UP, he wanted to shout, but no words would rise to his lips.

Then, slowly, the noise dissipated, and he became aware of a far more distinct noise.

“Doctor,” Martha was shouting frantically, “Doctor! Can you hear me? Please! Saysomething! Anything!” She sounded as if she were talking into a tin can.

The Doctor wanted to tell her that he was okay, to reach out, to do something, but he simply couldn’t move. Then, slowly, the blackness surrounding him cleared, and he was left with what looked like a dense fog.

He still couldn’t talk, he realized. But could he move?

With great strain, he was able to move his hand a little to the right, just far enough to touch his companion’s knee. She seemed to recognize this, however, and her face lit up.

“You’re alive!” she said tearfully. “I thought…I thought…”

Slowly, the Doctor shook his head. “Nevermind,” he was finally able to force out with difficulty. He paused. When he was certain he would be able to continue, he rasped, “Aloysius. That lying…cow. Where…is…he?”

The Doctor took in this bit of information with a deep breath and a grimace. Then, as if he’d recieved an unexpected jolt from a live electrical wire, he suddenly sat up fully, his face flushed with fury. “That stupid, othering Omega!* That lying, deceitful bastard! I hope he rots in a black star! Do you hear me? Rots!”

Never in her life had she seen the Doctor (or anyone else, for that matter) so angry. But she watched him vent, deciding it would be best for both of them if she didn’t interrupt.

The Doctor was absolutely furious. His breath escaped him in livid gasps, eyes sunken and glazed.